Lollipops

I thought.
My thoughts.
Blue thoughts
soon brought
tear drops
salty falling lollipops
belly flops
spinning tops
drop and stop
flip and flop
sweep and mop
cleaning up
twisted shards of
sweet-tasting glass
cutting, piercing
trying to pass
through pink esophagus
and my blue virgin
blood-filled sash.
Malice and scandal crash
over a naked cache
concealing all but my past
and the mass of inadequacies and rash
decisions I rehash,
abashed
[ly]. And with a crash,
like cymbals smashed,
what mattered then,
now turns to ash.

Wishing for Bicycles

Wishing for Bicycles
\
Walking backwards
trip and fall
feeling backwards
down the rabbit hole
Do cats eat bats?
Do bats eat cats?
backwards, forwards
spinning, churning,
dizzying
stumbling,
bumbling fool
words fall f l a t ,
like pennies in a wishing well
wells, stars, dandelions
wishes are always
to deep or
too far or
too fast,
flying with the wind.

Always out of reach.
fingers grow numb,
tree branches in winter
and tears always fall like leaves

all in undeniable time,
like in that Beatles song,
or maybe it was by the Byrds…

By the Byrds, for the Birds
when in solemn shafts of tranquil restlessness
crawling with beetles,
unable to feel an itch that will never be scratched,
it all goes to the birds anyway.
All,
everything,
always,

for the rest of [your]life,
for forever.

riding eternity like a bike.

We were driving on PCH one afternoon, coming back from Circuit City. Me, my dad, and little sister Laura. We had just bought a new stereo for my room because in a rage, my dad hurled my radio off the garage. He had quickly apologized and it was never spoken of again.
Driving back on PCH, my radio in the trunk, Dad in the drivers seat, me on the passengers’ side, and Laura in the back. My dad played a John Denver CD. We listened to Rocky Mountain High and talked about this huge voice belonging to such a tiny man and then Country Road began to play. He sang out loud and Laura joined in the way we used to when we were younger, but I felt that if I opened my mouth I would cry.
With the heavy sunshine and familiar sounds, I realized that this is just the way things are; me, my dad, ignoring our differences, letting them stand, taking up all the space in this tiny car, in this tiny life. This is the way things are, Dad on one side singing with John Dever and sun streaming through the windshield and me, on the other side, just across the armrest and ten thousand miles away.

I am fifteen

I am fifteen.
In the middle
Always in the middle
Between ten and twenty
Between baby blankets and bras
Between my best friend and my boyfriend
Between wanting to do everything and nothing at all.
I am fifteen.
That sentence is simple,
The reality is not.
My friends, my family, my classes,
My thoughts, my feelings, my life.
14 year old volleyball players who love pot, celebrate their second week clean
with pizza and beer.
“she got totally wasted”
wasted
like wasted potential
a fatal serve wasted by a fatal serving
she might as well not exist
it would ease the divorce of
her father who’s banging his secretary and
her mother, an anti- depressant junkie,
staying together to keep from
hurting her.
But squeezing her heart so hard
That in the process it burst.

I am fifteen.
Always stuck in the middle
In a balance
That easily tips.
Stuck
Between growing up and bursting.

erily beautiful, and wonderfully tragic.
heavy insignifigance;
n u m b
i am.

erily beautiful, and wonderfully tragic.
heavy insignifigance;
n u m b
i am.

heirarchy of the universe

Fat

Fat.
I have always been fat.
Fat doesnt mean you are too heavy or wheigh more than you should. It is a way of being, a lifestyle, a sin. It isnt just measured by scales and numbers. It is feeling your thighs stick together during a hot summer. Its not raising you hand in class because your arm jiggles. Its wearing a sweatshirt at a pool party and low-fat yogurt.
i have always been fat.
living fat is so much more than just being fat.
it means you are
stupid for believeing that "curvy" was a compliment.
vain for spending hours in the mirror and gym.
mean to those you are jealous of.
self depreciating for hateing fat.
careless for eating so many M&Ms.
empty (stomache) when dieting.
a liar, for not believing the scale.
and exsquitely beautiful in moments when you truely dont care.

This will be the year of dissapointments.
This is the year my parents will realize I'm not as brilliant as they believe. The year I'll fail at new responsibilities, new goals. The year my hate for my body will win. I feel it.
I was struggling as it was, but now its a new year. A time for moving forward, not falling.
I dont want to dissapoint anyone.
not my parents. not my friends.
not sara. not laura or kim.
and espescially not myself.
I want to live in a fairytale.
I dont want to be in the kind of place, where the guy doesnt know the girl exists or friends dont tell the truth, where people skrew themselves over on a regular basis, or where fourteen year old volleyball players love pot, and celebrate their second week clean with pizza and beer.
How can people hate so much?
It must start inside, and spread.
How can I fault myself this way?
Who am I to judge?
What standards am i up agasint?
Do I feel this way because i love too hard or am incapable of true love?
Why is it so easy to feel alone, and why does it hurt so much?

Am I, are we, condemned to eternal longing for perfection?
But its not really perfection,
everyone just wants to be the best, to win,
but there can only be one winner, and its no one you know.

The City I Live In

The best days are always the ones where the sun gives everything a smoggy, golden glow, turning the world into Disneyland.
The asphalt raidiates a warm grey,
as ironic as that may sound.
There are reflections in every window, every pan of glass, so nothing is really as it seems.
The sun shines, and transforms the citizens into movie stars-
womens hair sparkles as they sip cappucino, and
men emulate gentlemen from decades past.
The sun glows so perfectly on gleaming white buildings and masks scars on the face of the city.
the world seems more at peace,
then it ever could in Reality,
but this isnt Reality.

This is Los Angeles.

--JK

see the reason
keep the leftovers
throw away the experience
we'll get take out.
corruption
nepitism
the battle
chinese or italian?
increasing the challenge
bugs in my salad.
twist and turn. gulp and swallow.
absolutely the right thing to do. maybe.
the igloo is melting,
and the leaves are burning too.
super-impose the layers, and color it all yellow.
count on your fingers.
hmmm, this is yummy.
Ring Ring.
Democracy or Power?
Make your CHOICE.

-JK